Chapter 2
5 Days Earlier
"Gear up!"
"Where we goin', Boss?" asked Tony as he gathered his things.
"Another Navy Lt.?" McGee said copying Tony's movements.
"Nope. Assassin. We're meeting up with Detective Sportelli on scene," replied Gibbs as the team piled into the elevator
"Oh great, just my luck," grumbled Tony. He suddenly winced when he felt the sharp and familiar slap on the back of his head. "Sorry, Boss."
Ziva chuckled and they made there way out of the building and toward the car.
They arrived at the scene looking around at what they were going to be dealing with. In the middle of the taped off street, a man in his forties, known as Wesley Don Harris, was sprawled face up on the black-top. His eyes were closed and blood was trickling down the corner of his mouth. A holster for where a machine gun should be, sat strapped around his chest and the team guessed that Sportelli's men removed it. Gibbs scowled as he thought of someone else messing with his case. If the Detective was smart enough, he would of realized that the body wasn't supposed to be touched until Ducky looked at it. When Ducky did a liver probe, he was shocked.
"His body temperature is quite high, Jethro, almost as if he's not even dead."
"Well he looks dead to me, Duck, his chest isn't even moving. What about a pulse?"
Ducky leaned over and put his fingers to the cold neck of the deceased.
"Well, I don't feel one, but it's still suspicious. I'll have to get him back to autopsy to figure out the enigma."
Gibbs nodded as he gestured to his team to get to work. Tony on sketches, Ziva with witnesses and McGee taking photos.
"Did you see anything out of the ordinary, Miss..."
"Mrs. Stanton. Dorothy Stanton, and no there wasn't, everything was serene. Just any old ordinary. Before I knew it, a guy was walking out into the street and got slammed by a car. But, I guess it was his own fault."
"Why's that?" questioned Ziva sounding amused.
"Well, his head was down like he was on his phone, that's why I disapprove of those horrible devices. I prefer pagers, much safer."
Ziva smirked as she thanked Dorothy and moved on to the next witness.
"It's Kind of ironic, right?" asked Tony as he sketched the scene.
"What is?" replied Tim snapping a photo of the gun holster.
"The assassin being the one getting killed. You'd think he'd be more aware of his surroundings."
"Yeah...I guess so," said Tim rolling his eyes.
"Come on, McTim, laugh once in a while. You've been so...I don't know...quiet lately. Are you feeling okay?"
"I'm fine, I'm just tired. I haven't getting much sleep recently; I have this gut feeling that something's wrong, but I can't put my finger on it."
"Well, I hope you're not turning into Gibbs with you're gut feelings, though you're not as old as him, unless you got gray hair and a- he's right behind me isn't he."
"Yep," Tim said with a smile and he went back to the pictures.
Tony grimaced as he waited for the "Gibbs Slap." He waited but nothing came. Turning around, he noticed Gibbs was far away talking to Sportelli.
"You lied!" Tony shouted as he faced a laughing Tim. "Thanks a lot, you had me scared for nothing."
McGee just laughed as he finished up with the pictures of the body. Suddenly he noticed a white slip of paper sticking out from the inside pocket of the trench coat. Snapping a picture, he stored away the camera and leaned down to pick it up. He opened it up and read the what was on it.
Target's Location:
Washington D.C, lives in an apartment in Silver Springs. Find out more
Reason for death:
Knows too much
Works at:
A Federal Agency
Tim felt some color leave his face as he read this. He lived in Silver Spring, he worked at a Federal Agency, but it couldn't be him right? There were tons of people who worked at Federal Agencies and lived were he lived. McGee breathed nervously shaking the thoughts out of his head. He, suddenly jumped slightly at the light touch on his shoulder.
"Hey, McGee, did you hear me? What did you find there?" It was Gibbs.
"Oh, ah, it's a note about his next target," Tim said handing it to his Boss.
"You okay, Tim? You look like you've seen ghost."
"Yeah, I-I'm fine, it's just strange. I've been having this feeling that something bad is gonna happen and then reading that...it's just weird."
Gibbs studied him for a second before walking away, "Well, yeah this is a strange case, Tim. See if you can find anything else that indicates who he was coming to kill."
Tim nodded as he went back to photographing and searching. He began to reach into another inside coat pocket when the unexpected happened. He heard as raspy gasp and felt something grab his wrist. Tim yelled as he pulled back, unable to get away from the grip of his attacker. When he looked down, though, he saw who was holding him. It was the supposedly dead assassin, and he was looking right into the eyes of the cold, yet pain filled eyes.
"We need a medic!" Tim heard Gibbs distant voice yell.
Tim couldn't breathe. Something was wrong. Harris' eyes looked at him, as if he recognized him. The grip on his wrist grew so tight that it hurt and his hand was getting cold due to lack of blood. Then, out of no where, Harris grinned evilly and opened his mouth to say something, but the EMT's came and interrupted, removing the death grip on Tim. All Tim could do, though after wards, was stare. He couldn't move, he felt like he couldn't breathe and his face, he was pretty sure, had lost all color.
"-Gee! -cGee! Tim, can you hear me?"
"Huh?" Tim said, finally becoming aware of what was going on as he faced Gibbs.
"I said are you alright?"
"I-I don't- I don't know, Boss," replied Tim as he walked pass Gibbs and to the van. He needed to take a breather. When he got there, he sat down shakily in the back and noticed for the first time how much his wrist hurt. Looking at it, he saw it was red and bruises began forming. Wincing, he closed his eyes and thought. Something was way off. The way Wesley looked at him, that evil smile, and to top it off, the weird note. No doubt that he was the target. He just hoped he was wrong.
